


Heaven Can Wait

by LeandraLocke



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate take on s15e20, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Closeted Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Eileen is mentioned off screen, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, The finale sucked and did our boys dirty, but doesn't disappear, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeandraLocke/pseuds/LeandraLocke
Summary: With Chuck defeated and the balance in the world restored, Dean has to adjust to this new-found peace and freedom. Just that there's an angel-shaped hole in his chest that he doesn't know will ever heal.--A fix-it fic for Episode 15x20, addressing if not all but the major points the show messed up.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 20
Kudos: 134





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I know, every other fanfic author says this, too, but I really do suck at titles. It was a working title, but since I couldn't come up with anything better, you can read it as a giant middle finger to the CW. Because Heaven can fucking wait!  
> Also, this is the very first time I'm writing Destiel. Although I've been watching SPN from day one (I'm old, I was 24 when it all started), I, surprisingly, never got behind truly shipping Dean and Cas. I always saw the potential and the chemistry, but it only fully hit me when I binged most of season 15 last Tuesday and Wednesday. Cas' confession in ep 18? Yeah, I was done for. 
> 
> So here it is, my first Destiel fic. **The Fic is COMPLETE (11k words in total)** and only being beta-read right now. So expect swift updates.  
> Big thanks to my beta-reader geewobbles who's doing an awesome job!! <3 
> 
> And please, if you enjoyed it, let me know. Kudos are great, but comments are a writer's biggest rewards.

“To everyone that we lost along the way.” 

As Dean clinked his bottle with Sam’s and took the first sip, he thought of his parents, of Bobby, Charlie, Ellen, Jo, Ash, Kevin, hell, even Crowley, and so many others. Jack, too, in a way, though Jack… Jack wasn’t really gone. Just not with them any longer. 

What he couldn’t bring himself to do, though, was to think of Cas. He just couldn’t because then all of this - the feeling of relief, of peace and of hopefulness that he shared with his brother? He would not be able to enjoy it. He would not be able to let himself actually _feel_ the impact of it - of finally being free, truly free. And hell, he deserved to feel something good for once, even though he’d doubted that very fact many times. 

Dean never thought, at least not for many years, that he could ever have this. A peaceful, quiet, somewhat normal life with all the options out there, all the opportunities free for his choice and for the taking. In a way, it scared him. There was no plan, no big purpose to fulfil, no next big bad to overcome. Granted, there were still monsters, and there would still be hunts, but nothing on a scale as grand as what had dominated pretty much all their lives, even if they hadn’t been aware of it. But Jack took away Chuck’s powers and severed the control he had over the brothers, took them out of a predetermined story and gave them the freedom to write their own. 

Despite the relief and the freedom - or maybe because of them - Dean felt, in a word, empty. Though, no, that wasn’t exactly it. He just felt that, among all the positive things, there was something missing. Maybe, he simply needed time to get used to this. To fully realise that, for once in his life, for once in his and Sam’s lives, they were, indeed, truly free. 

Or maybe, a small voice in the back of his mind wanted to say, he still felt such loss in his heart that would take a long time to heal. Longer still, if he didn’t even allow himself to begin to cope with it. It probably would be healthier to address it, to allow himself to wallow in misery, to cry - which he hadn’t done since right after it had happened - but when had Dean Winchester ever been one to do what was healthy? 

The truth was, unlike Sam who, most of the time, allowed his emotions to surface, to live through them and deal with them, Dean didn’t have the strength for it. Maybe he had had it, once upon a time, but after so many losses, all the grief in his life, it was harder and harder to go through the next one. And this one… this one was final. Because Jack said he wouldn’t intervene any longer.

As he went back to his room sometime later, not tired yet but exhausted nevertheless, he didn’t know what to do, what to occupy himself with. He tried to listen to some music, but it either felt too loud and harsh, or it tore at something he didn’t want opened. He didn’t want to let out the emotions the melodies and words could trigger. He drank another beer, and then another, starting to feel drowsy but still too restless to sleep. 

He was just about to switch on the TV when he heard a scratching sound at his door and then a low whine. He got up immediately, his heart suddenly swelling with the need for something warm, something comfy to hold and be near to help him forget about everything else. 

Miracle, as he had named the dog, came running in wagging his tail as Dean opened the door and knelt down to pet the dog, running his fingers through the fluffy fur as the mutt tried to lick his face. There was something very special about the pure and innocent adoration dogs had for humans- how quickly and easily they became devoted to them, and it tugged at Dean’s heartstrings when he wrapped his arms around the dog and buried his face in his fur. It was both comforting and saddening, because it made him _feel_. 

The simple action somehow broke the barrier behind which he had tried to keep most of his emotions, and he found it hard to sift through them, to let only the ones that did him good surface and leave the rest locked up. But when Miracle slumped down next to him, turning to expose his belly, panting and wagging his tail more frantically in the joyous anticipation of belly rubs, it became a little easier, and a genuine, albeit small laugh, escaped Dean. 

“You’re a good boy, you know that?” he said, scratching Miracle’s belly and then giving his side two hearty pats. “Come on buddy. Let’s sit somewhere more comfortable than the cold floor. Yes, that means you can go on the bed. Just don’t complain when I accidentally kick you at night, okay?” 

Miracle gave a faint, huffy whine and Dean had to chuckle again as he got up and made his way to the bed. But the dog had other things in mind, sniffing around the floor towards a chair and then jumping up, sticking his nose into the crumpled piece of clothing lying on top of it. 

“Oh, no, no,” Dean immediately got up, his heart suddenly racing in his chest, and he quickly picked up the army green jacket. Any hilarity and lightness he had felt just a moment ago had vanished. 

The bloody handprint, now nearly black from having dried, was still there. He knew it was silly, knew he couldn’t just keep the jacket like this, but… he also knew he couldn’t bring himself to put it in the laundry. Couldn’t bring himself to remove the last material reminder of Cas.

He sat down at the foot of his bed, the jacket on his lap, and his fingers carefully ran over the handprint, barely touching as to not disturb it. And suddenly, his heart cramped up in his chest, and a wrecked, breathless sob escaped him. It came from deep within his gut, cutting off his air, and ripping through him with a force he had not expected. He clutched the jacket to his chest as if to hug it, as if to hug a piece of Cas, but it was barely a substitute. Too thin, too cool to the touch, not alive and breathing, no scent of him, and no trace of his voice. There was nothing left of Cas. He was truly gone, this time irrevocably gone, and it hit Dean fully for the first time. 

He barely noticed how Miracle scuttled around him, trying to shove his muzzle between Dean’s arms and his face, trying somehow to comfort this human he had only known for such a short time. And Dean was grateful. He slid back onto the bed, the jacket still clutched in one hand as he tried to lay down somewhat comfortably and let the dog snuggle up to his chest. 

“I’m sorry buddy,” he said, voice croaky and weak, as the tears were still running down his face. Miracle decided he was going to try to lick them away. Dean made a face at that, and surprisingly, a small chuckle came out. But it didn’t help much, didn’t stop that heavy, pulling feeling in his chest that made him think he couldn’t breathe properly. It didn’t stop the awareness that Cas really was dead from trickling in deeper and deeper. 

Cas had loved him. Dean had known that fact for so long, had felt it through all of Cas’ actions. But he had always thought of it as more of a brotherly kind of love rather than… than a romantic one. He wanted to ask Cas so badly how he had meant it, if he had really meant it the way it had sounded to Dean, but he couldn’t. He could only replay Cas’ final words in his mind and try to make sense of them. 

On top of his grief, he was so confused because, to him, it should not make a difference how those words were meant. He had always loved Cas, too. At least - he had always thought - like a brother. Cas was a part of his family, an integral part he still couldn’t imagine living without. Aside from that, it had never occurred to him, or rather, he hadn’t spared a thought on anything beyond that deep bond. But now? Now there was a nagging feeling in his mind, in his gut and heart that he needed to know. Should have known, should have had more time to process this information. 

There was no point in wondering about anything now, though. That moment was gone, the chance had passed, and what was left was only loss. 

Dean didn’t know how long he’d been laying there, too exhausted to cry, to think, or to feel. He was just barely aware of the warm, furry body snuggled up to him and the softly wheezing sound of Miracle’s breathing as he finally drifted to sleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And because the first two chapters are so short and my beta-reader and I are done editing already, you're getting both in one go. :-) Hope you like it.   
> I'm curious if it's still somewhat ambiguous what the "catch" here is or perfectly clear. Let me know!

When the Empty took him, he had simply stopped existing. He had not felt his body or his grace, had not thought a single thought, had not seen, heard, smelled, or tasted anything. He had simply stopped, properly this time, forever asleep without consciousness. If all that was true, however, how would he know it? How was it possible that the sense of not-being was there in him? And more so, how, if he had stopped existing, did he even know this now and could tell the difference? 

There was only one answer: Cas was awake. He knew it because he _felt_. He could not feel his body yet or see, but he felt that he _was_. There was something strange about it this time, different than the last. Last time, despite being awake, everything around him had felt… empty. Devoid of any sensation to be gained - no sight, sound, etc... There was just a vast, empty, blackness that surrounded him. 

This time, there was a soft warmth around him, something soothing and welcoming. There was a golden light that he sensed rather than saw because he had not yet opened his eyes. Something he did now without hesitation or trepidation. 

He knew whom he was facing even before his eyes had fully opened. It was both a comfort and a shock to see Jack standing there in front of him. The golden glow that Cas had previously only felt was now clearly visible around Jack. It was like a halo but also both brighter and gentler.

“Hello Castiel,” the boy said, with his same slightly crooked smile radiating innocence and kindness as it always had. 

“Jack, what are you doing he--” But Cas’ words died down in his throat as the smile on Jack’s lips got a little brighter. Cas could see, no, _feel_ the power that Jack exuded. In every fiber of his being, Cas was aware of it, felt engulfed and cradled by it. And then he knew what it meant. Not when or how it had happened, but he _knew_. 

The entity that ruled, well rather _was_ this place, was nowhere near, and Cas thought he understood why. The God that stood before him was so much more powerful than Cas’ father had ever been. 

“I died,” Cas said, a little stupidly. He did not know how else to start, what first to ask. 

Jack nodded slowly and titled his head, still smiling. “You did. There’s something I could use your help with, though, if you’d agree.” 

Cas felt his brow furrow, still too many questions chasing each other in his head. “And what is that?” 

“I’d like you to help me rebuild heaven. A kind of heaven that humanity deserves. I need someone who understands humanity better than I do, so I can get it right.” 

There was that innocence again, despite all the power he was radiating, it was still there. A boy who was curious and open-minded, who wanted to learn and understand and to do his best. Cas felt such overwhelming love and pride that he hardly knew how to fit it into his being. 

“I’m not sure my powers would be enough for such an effort,” he admitted truthfully. 

Jack smiled again and took a step closer, softly shaking his head. “My powers will be enough. I just need you to guide me. To help me make the best choices. As you always have done, father.” 

Cas felt like he could not breathe at hearing those words. His chest was bursting with emotion. He wanted to hug Jack, but he was unsure if he could. Jack was God now, after all, and even though the rule wasn’t written anywhere, he thought he could not presume to still treat him like his son. So he forced the emotions down to stay focused and pragmatic. “What about the Empty?” 

There was the tiniest of frowns on Jack’s face now and a slightly regretful smile. “The Shadow and I were able to come to an arrangement. But only if you agree,” he added quickly and Cas looked at him to continue. “You see, the Shadow only wants to sleep. It doesn’t care about your soul or where that part of you goes.”

“But I made a deal with the Shadow. It… it wanted me. Why would it let me go?” 

Jack looked down very briefly, inched another small step closer before he raised his gaze to look Cas in the eye. “A part of you would have to remain here. The part that belongs here.” 

It took a moment, but then the hesitancy in Jack’s question made sense. Cas understood.

“However you decide,” Jack started after a moment, “I’m glad to see you, even if it’s just this one time. I never got to say goodbye to you, father.” 

“Oh Jack,” Cas breathed out, and in the next moment, they both moved, arms wrapped around each other in a tight embrace, and Cas could, not forget, per se, but let it not hinder him that Jack was God. In this moment, he was just the boy Cas had sworn to protect, whom he’d come to love as a son. “I’m sorry Jack, but I had no choice. I had to do it to save Dean. I hope you understand.” 

“I know. I do,” Jack replied, and it seemed that the godly warmth Cas had had felt around him before now seeped right through him. For once, it was he who felt like he was cared for. He felt secure, comforted and truly happy, and he did not want to let go of that feeling. 

Eventually, they parted, only Cas’ hand still lingering on Jack’s shoulder for a moment longer and he asked, “Do you need my answer now or can you tell me everything that happened first?” He needed to know how they defeated Chuck. He needed to know if Dean and Sam were okay as well. 

Jack smiled at him. “We have time. The Shadow won’t disturb us.” 

Cas, surprisingly, found it easy to smile back at him. “Then tell me everything.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter edit completed. As I promised, I'll post swiftly. So in case you want to wait for the whole thing try again tomorrow. :-)

As the days went on, things got, if not a lot but at least a little bit, better. Dean still felt like he both couldn’t trust this new freedom and also didn’t really know what to do with it, or where the road was heading, this time. He could try to find a job, an actual, paying job, like fixing cars, or he could try as Lee had done - just minus the monster in the basement - and open a bar. Now, at the very least, with several days having passed without any sort of hunt having popped up, Dean could not deny that he felt a little bit bored. 

He also still had to think about Cas a lot, even if he tried not to because that would always lead to too much drinking, too much pondering about the what-ifs and could-have-beens. And that led to guilt because it had been his actions to piss Billie off, to make her want to kill him and, ultimately, they caused Cas’ death. Whenever he got to this point, Dean felt sick. It was like something inside his chest, something heavy and painful and nauseating, was spreading and cutting off his air and all ability to focus on anything good. It was his fault that Cas was dead, ultimately and undeniably so, and he didn’t know how he could live with that. 

But Dean had to. He had to for Sam, who might need him a little less now than he used to, especially with Eileen being around again. And even though Sam still seemed to be a little hesitant, and they were taking things slow, Dean thought, hoped, that eventually they would decide to stay together properly. Move in together, maybe even get a nice house somewhere, have a kid or two. Live the life Dean had always wanted his little brother to have but could not see in the picture until now. 

Sometimes, he did wonder though, when it was late at night and he felt the loneliest and guiltiest, when he tried to remind himself of the things that made life worthwhile. He wondered if Sam really still needed him as he hoped, or if Dean would not even be a kind of hindrance to him leading a life of his own. 

In some of his darkest moments, Dean gave in to thinking about dying, and later, when either the haziness of alcohol passed, when Miracle jumped onto his bed and wagged his tail in delight to be petted, or when Sam knocked at his door to ask if he wanted some food or to watch a movie, he felt ashamed for ever allowing such thoughts. 

Even if Miracle would get over it, and if Sam had his own family and life with Eileen, he still owed it to himself to live. To enjoy life and be grateful for each moment, even if it was hard sometimes. Most of all, he owed it to Cas. Cas had given his own damned _life_ to save Dean’s. How utterly selfish and ungrateful was he for ever wishing it to end? 

So Dean tried his best. He tried to listen to music that made him not feel melancholic but energized. He tried to draw comfort from Miracle’s adoration and amused himself by letting the dog lick clean his used plates when Sam would not see it. He tried to focus on the future, looked forward to the prospect of seeing Sammy get married, and of becoming an uncle - maybe, eventually. And he tried to stand outside in the rain, feeling the drops on his skin and remembering what Jack had said that last day they’d seen him. 

And, maybe, life was good after all. Or it could be, eventually. And he could learn to live with the guilt of causing Cas’ death, accept it as a part of him. Among everything, that seemed to be the hardest task of all. 

It was kind of funny when all that psychology crap one always read or heard about proved itself to be true a few days later. What Dean had desperately tried to realise and truly feel, he said to Sam when, for the first time in a while, he brought up Cas and Jack. 

“You know what? That pain’s not gonna go away, right?” he told his brother, and it almost felt like he was talking more to himself than Sam, “But if we don’t keep living then all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing.” 

Sam’s response - and Dean was, if mildly annoyed, mostly grateful for it - was to slam a piece of pie from the tray Dean had on his lap at the pie festival right into his face. And if that and Sam’s soft laugh wasn’t doing exactly what Dean had said, living and enjoying life, then he didn’t know. 

It wasn’t long after that when he and Sam went on their first hunt after defeating Chuck. Everything pointed at vampires who broke into houses, killed or maimed the parents, and abducted the kids to either to keep them as a steady supply of blood or wait a few years and then turn them young to strengthen their nest. It was a pretty straight-forward case, a few witnesses and cops to interview, one vampire caught and interrogated, and then they were on their way to the lair. 

It was in an abandoned farm outside the town. Armed with guns and machetes they marched into the barn to free the kids and get rid of the vamps. There were four of them, and they put up a good fight, attacking them with clubs and knives. The first one went down pretty quickly by Sam’s blade, the next followed only shortly after, its head severed clean off its shoulders by Dean. 

It was a bit of a surprise when, after one of the remaining two had temporarily incapacitated Sam with a heavy punch and then both of them having pinned Dean down on the floor, he got to meet another member of the nest, and, after a moment’s pondering, recognised her as Jenny, a girl they had failed to save from a bunch of vamps back fourteen or fifteen odd years ago or so. They didn’t have time to exchange any pleasantries or unpleasantries for long. While the two male vampires still held Dean, Sam came up from behind and cut off Jenny’s head with a clean blow, and the fight commenced. 

Then, several things happened within only a few short seconds. The sound of another head being cut off its body resounded through the barn. The last vampire charged at Dean, and the barn door flew open, loudly rattling on its hinges. 

“Dean! Look out!” someone shouted. Someone that wasn’t Sam. Someone whose voice Dean would have recognised anywhere but could not be hearing right now because… no, it was impossible. 

The call had not just Dean paralysed in shock, but the vampire was distracted as well. Instead of fully running into Dean; instead of pushing him backwards several steps with the weight of its own body, it just brushed by him, nearly stumbled, and had to regain its balance. That was all it took for Dean to shake himself loose and turn the game around. He tripped up the vampire, grabbed it by the jacket, and he swung it in the direction he would have been shoved. He saw the post with the rebar and heard the sound of the metal piercing the vampire’s back, just a second or two before Sam was at his side and beheaded it right where it stood, pinned to the post. Pinned and impaled as Dean would have been, had it not been for…

“Cas?” he barely dared speak the name as he turned around and looked at the angel, his best friend, standing there with eyes still wide from the thrill of the situation. He was actually there, flesh and blood and suit and trenchcoat. Not just a memory, not just a dream...and not a hallucination either. 

“Dean.” 

“Cas, is that really you?” His voice broke, and he barely noticed how his feet automatically carried him towards Cas, feeling like his legs could give out any moment. But he was there in front of him now, and Dean wrapped his arms around Cas so tightly, squeezed him so close to his chest that there was no room for breathing anymore for the moment. He really didn’t care about that though. 

“Cas, I thought I--” _I’d lost you, I’d never see you again_ , but Dean couldn’t even get the words out, something in his throat constricting. His nose was blocking up, and his sight was becoming blurry. 

“Jack brought me back,” Cas replied softly. His arms, that Dean only noticed now had been tightly wrapped around his back, were slowly sliding off. 

Dean quickly wiped his face with the back of his hand as he released the angel from his vice-like grip and leaned back to look at him. It was really him. The same blue eyes that Dean had thought he’d never be able to look into again but also could never forget. 

A moment later, Sam was at their side, disbelief in his tone as much as was in Dean’s when he uttered their friend’s name. When Dean reluctantly let go, it was Sam who wrapped Cas in a bone-crushing hug. 

Cas coughed and winced a little, and, as Sam let him go, Dean immediately laid a hand on Cas’ shoulder. The worry he was feeling prevented any relief from fully surfacing. 

“Are you okay?” 

Cas looked up at him, his brow somewhat furrowed as his hands ran over his front as if he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. “I… yes. I’m okay. I’ll explain everything later, but now I think those two want to be returned to their homes.”

Dean and Sam followed Cas’ gaze in the direction towards the back of the barn where the door to the small room the kids had been kept in was open, and two pairs of eyes looked at them expectantly and hopefully. 

“You’re not gonna disappear on us, are you?” Dean had to make sure. 

Cas looked at him, exhaled softly, and a small smile formed on his lips. “No. I’m staying.” 

That was all Dean needed to hear. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go and then an epilogue :-)

Cas was human. 

The shock of it still rattled Dean so deeply that he couldn’t even bring himself to think about it. In all those years he’d known him, he had often wondered, even sometimes wished, especially when their differences became too vast, Cas could be more human. But now? Dean felt a sadness for his best friend that shook him to the core, and on top of it, he felt guilty because it was all his fault. 

The explanation of everything had been easier to take than the information itself. After having returned the kids to their mom, they had just driven for a bit and then stopped at the side of the road. Dean definitely didn’t want to have that whole conversation while driving with Cas sitting in the back. He wanted to look at him properly. Hell, he hardly got enough of the sight in the first place, just barely able to contain himself from giving in to the urge to hug Cas again, and again. His guilt and regret made that a little easier, though. 

Instead, he had just listened to Cas as he had explained how Jack had awoken him in the Empty and asked him to help rebuild heaven - though he left it at that and said he should not reveal more to the living - and how the Shadow, apparently, was only after the part of him that was supernatural, his grace. The Shadow was also somewhat concerned that Cas might wake up again and disturb its sleep, so it was satisfied with the arrangement of letting out the part of Cas that had a mind of his own and an attachment to Earth.

That Cas had given up his eternal life so willingly alleviated Dean’s guilt somewhat. His attachment to Earth was - at least, that much was heavily implied in the gaze, full of affection, that Cas shot him at the mention - Dean, and that knowledge moved him, even made him, in a strange, conflicting sense, proud. 

Still, it was difficult to grasp and fully accept. Although Dean could not imagine being a celestial immortal creature and was glad to be just human, Cas had never known anything else, save for that short period of time several years ago, and that hadn’t exactly been easy for him. 

But here he was now, long after they had left to head back to Kansas, in the backseat of the Impala, yawning as any other human being, and it was just the strangest sight to Dean. Endearing, yes, but, for all its normality, something to get used to. 

It was nearly dawn when they finally got back to the bunker. He should feel tired, too, but his brain was buzzing with far too many emotions and questions. There was also a very small, irrational part of him that was afraid to go to sleep to wake up and find Cas gone. 

“Breakfast?” Sam asked after Cas had retreated to one of the rooms that now would properly be his, to sleep in. 

“Aren’t you tired?” 

Sam shrugged softly. “I’m past that point, I suppose. We still got some eggs and bacon in the fridge.” 

Dean suspected Sam wasn’t being completely truthful. He did look tired, and he had yawned several times in the past half hour or so, but he appreciated his little brother wanting to keep him company. 

He nodded, and they started towards the kitchen, only for Dean to stop in his tracks and look at Sam. “You mean actual bacon, right? Not that artificial _vegan_ stuff?” he said with all the dismay he could muster. 

Sam just rolled his eyes. “That vegan stuff is actually pretty tasty. And a lot healthier. But yeah, we’ve got real bacon, too.” 

“Good, because healthy or not, I’m not eating that junk.” 

Sam shook his head but chuckled softly before he deliberately bumped into Dean’s shoulder teasingly, to which Dean replied in kind. It was a lightness and hilarity between them Dean hadn’t been able to feel in a long time. At least not completely. 

The pain of loss was still there, in the back of his mind, but it was just the memory of it this time, not the actual feelings that he had to bottle up, push down, and force himself to get over. Same as last time when he had lost Cas, or Sam, those memories never really disappeared. Their impact faded, though, and with each moment shared, they were outdone by gratitude and happiness. There’d still be a lot of those moments to share with Cas, too. Dean had to believe that. 

As they went to prepare their breakfast, Dean whisking the eggs and Sam putting two slices of bread in the toaster, Dean still couldn’t stop thinking about Cas. In those first moments, happiness and relief had been on the forefront, but there was also that damned elephant in the room of what Cas had revealed to him in their last moments together, and Dean still didn’t know what to do with that, now afraid that, no matter what, it would lead to awkwardness between them one way or the other.

“So, uh,” Sam started, after having taken out both the packets of regular and fake bacon from the fridge and heating up a skillet, “You never told me exactly what happened the night Cas… you know.” 

All this time, Sam had reconciled himself with the very short explanation Dean had given him and Jack, that Cas had summoned the Shadow and let the Empty take him. When Sam had inquired on the details some time later, Dean had evaded the topic by saying he didn’t fully get it himself, and that they should drop it. So Sam had not asked again. Now, it was a safe topic to address, or at least Sam must have thought, but Dean still wasn’t sure he wanted to go there. 

“It’s, uh, well… complicated,” he said, and yeah, that didn’t sound suspicious at all. Of course, Sam raised his eyebrows at him. 

Part of Dean wanted to tell Sam; maybe sharing it would make it a little easier to handle. But another part of him also felt… ashamed even though he had done and said nothing that should embarrass him. Least of all in front of his brother. 

“Okay,” Sam said after a few moments, already dropping it, but Dean made up his mind. 

“They made a kind of deal, the Shadow and Cas. Back when we brought Jack back from the Empty. The Shadow told him it would come get him when…” Dean paused briefly, not quite sure how to explain the rest of it, but it was a little too late to backtrack now. “When he was happiest.” 

With another carefully quizzical look, brows raised, Sam faced him briefly before he turned his attention to the bacon. 

“Turns out he was happiest when… goddammit, Sam. Don’t make me… I can’t say it, okay?” 

“Okay,” Sam quickly replied, and Dean felt so torn. Torn between wanting to take back everything he had said, and wanting to share everything else. Angry at Sam for asking yet grateful for it as well. Angry at himself, for sure, for not knowing what to do or say or feel. 

He nearly burned the eggs, cursing under his breath when he turned the much too brown ones around in the pan. For a second, he just wanted to throw everything in the trash. 

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” Sam said to calm him, and Dean had no idea why he had turned so irritable in the first place. 

“He told me he loved me,” Dean got out quickly, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders at the same time as a jab of shame pooled in his stomach.

“Oh.” It was all Sam said, his brows shooting up only for a split-second this time, no big surprise or shock visible on his face. 

“Oh?” Dean mimicked and shot his brother a confused look. 

Sam just shrugged before he turned the bacon slices a last time, pressing them down with the spatula. “Can’t say I’m surprised.” 

“You’re not what now?” Dean barely managed to get the slightly too brown fried eggs to slide onto two plates as Sam let out a soft chuckle. 

“Well, it’s kind of obvious. At least, it always seemed that he did.” 

“How the hell was that obvious? I didn’t know! I didn’t even think he’d--- Oh!” Dean stopped and looked at his brother, wondering if it had been a misunderstanding. “I mean… yeah. I knew he loved me, as he loved you and Jack and--” There was no way to convincingly weasel out of this now. Sam’s ‘oh please’ look told him enough, and this time, Dean was a little pissed at his baby brother for apparently having known this for hell knew how long and never having said a word. “How long have you known?” 

Sam shrugged again. The bacon was done now, and he put the slices on their plates. “I don’t know. I always kind of suspected something like that.” 

“Always?” Dean asked incredulously, taking his own plate and following Sam to the table. He suddenly didn’t have much of an appetite anymore. 

“There were moments… I guess, kind of… years ago already. How he sometimes looked at you, always focussed on you, first. Or the way he betrayed everything he knew and was told to believe in, for you. Dean, Cas has been in love with you for ages, and the only way you never saw that was because you’re too full of self-loathing to trust or even accept that you are worth being loved that way.”

Dean frowned and pulled a face, but his brother simply continued. “So no, I’m not surprised, but it wasn’t my place to say anything. If you didn’t get it, and Cas didn’t want to reveal it then that was his decision. Plus, you wouldn’t have believed me anyway.” 

Dean looked down at his plate, still not eating, and he let out a sigh, both resigned or regretful and… strangely relieved. “No, I guess I wouldn’t have,” he admitted. 

“See? You had to hear it from him. The only question that remains,” Sam said before he picked up some egg and fake bacon with his fork, “is what you’re gonna do with that knowledge.” 

Dean knew he must look surprised, eyes wide and brows raised as he looked at his brother, but it wasn’t exactly a surprise that he was feeling that. A little maybe - that Sam even considered that there _was_ something he could be doing with that - but more than surprise, he felt… a challenge. 

“I don’t know,” he said, softly, and that was still the truth. 

Sam just gave him a small, encouraging nod between bites. “You’ll figure it out.” 

There was nothing else to it, Dean thought as he finally took his first bite. Figuring it out… he had to do just that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before the epilogue. Now I'm really curious what you think of this one ;-) Please let me know!

It was a strange thing to get used to. The sensations of his body and its needs were ever-present - hunger, thirst, fatigue, sensitivity to temperatures. It was all so mundane and, if he were to find a positive expression for it, humbling. If not, then they were distracting and sometimes unpleasant. Everything felt harsher and at the same time more blurred. His senses numbed down to the limited spectrum of human perception in the absence of his grace.

Everything that came with being human was simply alien to Cas, even now when he had experienced it all before. At least, he had been better prepared this time, had known what to expect and what he’d give up. He had deliberately made a choice, one that he did not regret, though there were brief moments of doubt and uncertainty. 

It would simply take a while for him to get fully accustomed to being an ordinary mortal, a human being. For good this time, and that, naturally, had to be a little bit frightening. 

He had not taken a sudden leap of faith when Jack had offered to bring him back, and a part of Cas wished he had, that he _could_ have. He had been too afraid, terrified even, to be rejected by Dean. All the years he had spent longing for something he, as he had said to Dean, knew he could never have, he had contented himself with keeping those feelings to himself. Treasuring them like something holy in his essence, something he did not have to share for it to be true. Something he knew was just about him, only _for_ him, because Dean would never return his feelings. 

Cas had often wondered how he’d react if he knew it, if it would affect their friendship and their bond negatively. He had disliked that, despite all his angelic powers and his acute senses, he could not fathom or foresee the result of such a confession. So, for fear of consequences, he had only revealed it when there was nothing left to lose. When there was only something to be gained - maybe, ideally, for Dean to understand how Cas saw him, what he meant to him and what that could mean for his self-worth which he had too little of. 

It had probably been a bit cowardly to only feel comfortable to say the words then, when there was nothing at stake in their future, but Cas also did not regret it. What he had done had saved Dean’s life, and that, in itself, was all the reward he had ever needed - everything that made him accept the end of his life freely and with a serenity he could not remember having felt before in all the eons of his existence. 

No, Cas had done right then, and he hoped he had done right this time, too. 

Despite Cas’ inhibitions, Jack, with his omniscient aura, had given him hope. Hope that Dean would at least welcome him back as a friend, would not shun him for the feelings he had revealed. When they finally did meet again, Cas could not even have imagined the immense relief that had washed over him when Dean had wrapped him in his arms. He had even shed tears of joy at their reunion. 

No matter what lay in their past, no matter what Cas had to give up, this knowledge alone was worth _everything_. 

He could not deny, in the days that followed, that things _were_ a little strained between them, however. It was like Dean was tiptoeing around him, his interactions less open and bright. There was less of Dean’s teasing humor that Cas had initially not understood but learned to appreciate - to be fascinated by it day by day until he could at least anticipate when Dean would crack a joke or brush something serious off with a sarcastic remark. 

Dean tried, but he was often more serious these days. There was always something in the back of his mind, so clearly visible on his features every time he looked at Cas, although he tried to hide it behind small encouraging smiles and little caring gestures. A snack here, a bottle of beer there, a question about whether he needed something, felt cold or too warm, was comfortable with his room, and all the other mundane little things to help Cas settle into his human life. 

Dean was not avoiding him - he was caring for him in the best way possible - but he simply did not fully seem to know how to act around Cas. 

And so, Cas was not surprised when, a good week after he had returned, and on an evening when Sam had headed out to meet up with Eileen, Dean came over to his room. The door was half-open, and Dean leaned against the doorway when Cas looked up to him from where he had been sitting on the foot of the bed, cross-legged and reading a book. 

“Whatcha reading?” Dean asked casually. 

Cas untangled his legs and sat on the edge of the bed a little straighter, feeling how his knees hurt just the tiniest bit from maintaining the awkward position for too long. Something else he had to get used to. 

“It’s called ‘The Hobbit’. Sam gave it to me,” he answered. 

Dean gave a small, throaty chuckle. “At least it’s not Fifty Shades.” 

Cas knew it was meant to be a joke - a small step of improvement towards normalcy between them - though he did not get the reference. “It’s interesting,” he said. “Entertaining.”

Dean shrugged softly, and he finally took a few steps closer to him. “They made movies of that. We could watch them some time if you like.” 

“Yeah. I’d like that,” he replied, feeling his human heart skip a little in his chest with something both pleasant and _un_ pleasant. When before, as he had still had his grace, Cas had simply felt emotion as an awareness in his soul, there were now all these small physical sensations, and he still had to learn how to discern them, what to make of them, and how to appreciate them instead of being confused by them. 

“Listen, I…” Dean licked his lips, his right hand sliding out of his jeans pocket and then both hands running down his thighs in what Cas knew to be a somewhat nervous gesture. “I think we should talk.” 

There it was, as Cas had partly expected, but that didn’t stop his heartbeat from going up a few notches, a strange chill running down his spine, and something in his midst that made it feel like he could not fully fill his lungs with oxygen. It was hope, fear, shame and everything else he could not fully make out yet because his body was simply too loud for him to hear his own thoughts. 

“About that night when you…” Dean made a waving motion with his hand. “When you said goodbye. W-what you said.” 

Confused by his own feelings or not, Cas could not miss that this was hard for Dean, and he felt a swell of sympathy in his chest. “Dean, we don’t have to talk about it. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” 

That was most of the truth, but another part of it was that Cas did not need to hear it spelled out, whatever exactly Dean was going to say. He believed he got the general gist of it, that Dean felt he needed to let him down easy, as they said. 

“You’re not. I mean…” Dean fidgeted a little, another waving motion with his hand, looking around until he finally decided to pull out the chair from the desk and sit down in front of Cas, a foot away or so. 

“Okay,” he said, licking his lips again and briefly running a hand over his forehead. “Okay, yeah, I’m uncomfortable.” Dean finally looked Cas in the eyes again, and Cas almost wanted to look away because that was the last thing he had wanted Dean to feel. 

“I mean,” Dean let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh, “I’ve never been good at talking about feelings and stuff, so, yeah, uh... there’s that. That’s what makes me uncomfortable. But it’s got nothing to do with what you said to me, okay?” 

Cas felt his brow furrow slightly as he tried to make sense of the admittedly less than clear words, and after a moment’s consideration, he believed he understood. “That’s good. I appreciate that.” 

Dean pulled his head back a little, brows shooting up before he made his typical confused and quizzical face, and oh, how Cas loved it. Loved everything about this ridiculous human being and his odd habits and gestures. He couldn’t help but smile. "You appreciate that?"

“Yes, I do,” Cas said softly. “If I understood you correctly, that what I said doesn’t have to impact our friendship?” he tried, hopeful. 

Dean still looked at him with uncertainty written on his features for a second but then continued, “So you really _did_ mean that. You didn’t say… you know? I got that part right. You didn’t mean you loved me like a brother, but… Y-- you _really_ meant that?” 

Now it was Cas who was confused. He had thought that much had always been obvious, that there was nothing to misunderstand from his words that night; that Dean must clearly know what they had meant. But here he was, needing a final confirmation, and Cas felt his palms becoming slightly sweaty. 

“Yes, I really meant that.” 

Dean let out a long, deep breath through his nose and then swallowed. 

“I, uh… okay. I’m glad you told me.” 

Cas exhaled in relief. It was a kind thing to say. A thanks for his honesty and another confirmation that it really did not affect their friendship negatively, and Cas was grateful for it. It hurt a little. No, a lot. It hurt that this was all there ever was and should be between them, but it was much better than nothing. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner,” he confessed. “Maybe I should have, for our friendship’s--” 

“Damn well, you should have, Cas,” Dean interrupted him with more vehemence in his tone now, slightly accusing, and Cas wondered if he had misunderstood after all. If Dean had never really gotten what he had meant that night and needed the full truth now - a truth which might repulse him. Which would end their friendship after all. Cas felt something burn in his eyes, something throb in his chest as fear gripped him. 

“Dean, I’m sorry. We can just forget--” 

“No, shut up, Cas. Because if you don’t I might never get this out.” Dean said quickly, his voice raw and harsh with emotion, but then he hesitated, licked his lips again - and this was _not_ the time to notice or even think about how that sight made Cas feel. 

One hand on his knee, Dean braced himself as he looked away to obviously collect his thoughts, and Cas sat there, not daring to say anything or even take more than short, shallow little breaths. 

“You should have told me,” Dean continued at last, his tone gentler again, and he finally looked back at Cas. “You should’ve told me, and not just when you thought it was your last moment on earth. You should’ve told me because…” He gave a barely suppressed, frustrated groan. “Hell, Cas, I never thought you felt that way. I always thought it was just this... this bond, like some kind of blood brothers. And when you showed _any_ interest in people in _that_ way it was always women. I didn't think you'd…” 

“I tried to do the obvious thing,” Cas tried to explain, noticing how feeble his own voice sounded. “To find something, someone other than you. But it never worked out.”

There was a soft, somewhat bitter and regretful laugh coming over Dean’s lips. “Look, I bottle things up, okay? I put my feelings in a box and throw away the key. There are things that I… things I wouldn’t admit even to myself. But if you’d given me the chance, given me the reason to, sooner…” He took a deep breath, fighting with his own demons, with his own fears so palpably that it shocked Cas. 

“I could have come around and allowed myself to love you.” 

The words were out, and Dean looked Cas straight in the eyes, his own green ones glistening with moisture, but he did not look away again. Yet, Cas did not dare to believe, did not dare to hope that this really meant what it sounded like. His own eyes were wide, trembling breaths coming over his parted lips as he stared at Dean, and it took all his willpower to finally get out even half a question., “You mean…”

Dean nodded faintly, and there was just a hint of a smile playing around one corner of his mouth. “Yes. _I mean_. I never wanted to admit it, but I've felt like this for so long, Cas. And if I wasn’t such a dumbass and you weren’t too, we could’ve gotten around to this so much sooner.” There were obvious tears in his eyes now, one of them breaking over his lashes and running down his cheek, his voice cracked and hoarse as he continued, “I wish I'd had the guts to admit it before you died. Because… because I love you too, Cas.”

There was a human expression Cas had always found interesting and hilarious: to look like a deer in the headlights. He knew that this must be precisely what he looked like, but he could not bring himself to… to do anything, speak or breathe or even think. 

“Say something, man”, Dean all but whispered, a shaky chuckle between more tears that were now properly falling. He pulled his chair closer as he simultaneously put one hand to the side of Cas’ neck, and a second later, Cas could feel Dean’s forehead resting against his own, could hear his slightly hitched breathing so closely, and feel a puff of warm air on his skin. 

It was all it took for him to finally move, to wrap one arm around Dean tightly and steady himself with the other hand on the edge of the bed, and he only noticed then that he was crying, too. 

“I don’t know what,” he admitted, because there were no words to describe what he was feeling - the relief, the joy, and still residual fear that this may all be some big misunderstanding. 

But then he felt Dean’s lips on his temple, his cheek, heard him inhale before - after what felt both merely like a split-second and a whole eternity - those warm, soft lips were on his. He could feel the moisture on them, and noticed how dry his own were. He didn’t know what to do with them because, unlike when he had kissed Meg or April, he felt like he was utterly overwhelmed, simply _bursting_ with emotion and completely out of his depth. 

Dean was kissing him so gently, patiently like Cas could never have imagined a kiss to be like, least of all from a man like Dean Winchester, who was always so rough on the outside. Cas had imagined that when pursuing someone else, Dean would always be passionate and playful, coy and self-assured. Now, he was the exact opposite, all careful and hesitant, uncertain and patient. 

Finally, Cas found the strength to respond, to breathe again, open his lips and feel Dean’s move against them. The tip of his tongue, slowly against his own. The soft friction of skin, stubble on Dean’s upper lip when Cas allowed his mouth to move some more. It was, in a word, bliss. Pure and utter heavenly bliss like Cas had never felt it before, never expected to feel. And something in the back of his mind, something that made his skin tingle and his heart shake, told him this was just the beginning. 

“God, Cas,” Dean breathed as he slowly let their faces part only about an inch, before he let out a soft laugh and rolled his eyes upward. “I mean… I hope Jack didn’t hear that.” 

And Cas had to laugh, too. Softly at first, but then more heartily, freely as he wrapped both arms around Dean, hugged him tight and felt a chuckle vibrate against the skin of his neck. 

“C‘mere,” Dean said softly and slid from the chair onto the bed, up a little father, one hand entwined with Cas’ to pull him closer until they were lying on top of the mattress, facing each other. 

Cas wanted to kiss Dean again, but Dean just looked at him for a moment as if he was drinking the sight in. His fingers came to the side of Cas’ face, gently brushing his skin, mapping each contour in feather-light touches, and then his lips were on Cas’ again, and this time, Cas answered immediately, let them wander, explore, feel and taste - become more bold, demanding and equally giving. 

Their arms wrapped around each other, they kissed deeply, and Cas thought he could just get lost in all the sensations - those of both body and mind - could just let their slow kisses go on and on. Of its own accord, his body slid a little closer, and a sigh came over Cas’ lips, caught by Dean’s. 

Dean slowly pulled away a little, looking at Cas in the dim light of the room, and a tiny, for a Dean Winchester rather bashful smirk ran across his lips. “This, um… is still kinda new to me.” 

Cas raised his brows at Dean, though it was rather obvious what Dean meant: that Cas was, in his human form, male.. 

“It’s new to me too,” he confessed. Even though kissing another male was a first for him, as well, he meant something completely different. Emboldened by everything he had experienced those past - ten, five, fifteen, he wasn’t even sure - minutes, he felt ready to make another confession. 

“The few times I was… intimate with someone, it was to satisfy a curiosity, to experience the joys of the flesh. An answer to a mainly physical attraction. But it will never be just that with you, Dean. So whatever you’re willing to give me, whenever you’re ready, and whatever you don’t want to do, I will be happy with it. As long as it’s with you.” 

Dean let out a tiny, breathy, somewhat disbelieving laugh, looking flustered. “You make that sound like I’m a teenage virgin.” 

Cas felt a smile on his own lips, giving Dean the hint of a shrug. 

“I have _some_ experience in that direction,” Dean said now, and he sounded almost a little defensive, albeit awkward about his own revelation. At least so much was visible on his face. “I mean, not like… like this. But… I probably shouldn’t go there.” 

Cas wanted to offer him he could, but he decided against it. It was of no importance. If Dean wanted to share something, he always could. They had time for that, too. 

“What I’m saying is,” Dean continued when Cas still hadn’t spoken again, “this is new. It’s just… different. So, uh, yeah, taking things slow sounds good to me.” He winced briefly and rolled his eyes at himself, and Cas had to laugh softly again. “Which doesn’t mean I don’t want to!” he quickly clarified. “Because I do. I want to do all that… everything with you. But--” 

“How about,” Cas interrupted him as he slid a little closer again, one hand reaching for Dean’s and waiting for him to entwine their fingers. He looked down at them, let his thumb run gently over the base of Dean’s before their hands clasped a little more tightly. “How about you stop talking and kiss me again, and we’ll figure everything else out when we do?” 

And Dean, fortunately, seemed to be perfectly fine with that. As he brought his lips back to Cas’, and Cas let his head rest comfortably on the pillow, closing his eyes, he thought that this was just perfect. More than he could ever have dreamed of. Anything that came after this? It could only get better. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the epilogue. I changed the rating because of a few paragraphs in this one. It might still be okay as a hard T, but I'm sure you all don't mind an M either.  
> So, that was it. My first ever Destiel fic. I hadn't written anything in two years, and I felt so immensely inspired by these two idiots, because of the shitty finale. I hope you enjoyed the fic and that, if you did, you can take the time to leave me a few lines about what you liked best and what you thought of it all.  
> Thank you for reading!! :-)

Dean woke up and stretched, blinking his eyes open with a big yawn coming over his lips. There was light in the room, the sound of the pages of a book turning, and the soft wheezing snores of a dog. 

“How long did I sleep?” he asked, still sleepy and rubbing his eyes as he sat up. He was still fully dressed in his jeans, tee and flannel, lying on top of the covers for a nap. 

“Just about an hour,” Cas replied and, as Dean looked over to him, smiled softly. He was sitting on the bed, equally dressed and leaning against the headboard, a book in his lap. 

Dean frowned softly as he shook himself awake. “Reading, again? You’re such a nerd, you know that? You should be Sam’s boyfriend.” 

Cas let out a low chuckle and briefly smacked him with the paperback. “I don’t think Eileen would appreciate that.” 

Dean just shrugged but smiled nonetheless. When he teased Cas like that he knew it was understood the way he meant it because, hell, he wouldn’t want Cas to be any different. 

When he had come back as human, Cas had developed a liking for literature - not the big volumes of lore he had read for research, but purely for entertainment. From the great works of classic literature over fantasy novels like Tolkien’s to mystery and crime, Cas had devoured everything he could get his hands on. He said it gave him a better perspective on the human experience, broadened his horizon in a way TV alone never could. Dean got that. He just didn’t have the patience to read for leisure. 

“So, nothing new?” he asked, and Cas shook his head. 

“I would’ve woken you up, as I promised. Plus, you sleep so lightly, you’d have heard your phone.” 

“Yeah, okay. Right,” Dean acknowledged but took a quick glance at his phone anyway. Nothing. “So whatcha reading this time?” 

Cas seemed a little reluctant, keeping the book to himself, and so Dean did the only thing he could do and quickly ripped the thing from Cas’ hands to skim the blurb on the cover. “A romantic western? Really?” he laughed, incredulous. 

Cas gave a small sigh but grinned and shrugged. “It’s a bit lighter after Tolstoy.” 

“You don’t say,” Dean teased, but Cas did not let that bother him. 

“And,” he continued, with emphasis, as he took the book back from Dean’s hands, “The outlaw gunslinger kind of reminds me of you.” 

“Ah,” Dean said, brows going up a bit as he automatically imagined himself in an Old West scenario, with dirty boots, a cowboy hat, and a revolver on each side of his holster. He could get behind that. Dean slid a little closer, his shoulder bumping into Cas’. “Interesting. Does he have the same, irresistible charisma that I have?” 

“He’s quite the ladies’ man,” Cas replied. 

“Thought so.” Though Dean kinda wanted Cas to tell him nobody else could compare with him. 

“So…” he started again after Cas had turned another page, feeling bored and a little impatient. “How long do you think until we hear something?” 

“I have no idea. First-time labor can take rather long. At least that’s what I--”

“Read in a book. Right.” 

Cas left his index finger between the pages and closed the book this time as he turned to look at Dean. “Dean, I’m sure Eileen will be fine, and we’ll hear about your new niece or nephew when we do.” 

Dean let out a somewhat theatrical sigh. “I know, it’s just…”

“That patience isn’t your strongest suit,” Cas finished as he put the bookmark between the pages and set the novel on the nightstand. “Anything I can distract you with?” 

Dean liked how that sounded, particularly when Cas looked at him with a gaze he could only describe as bedroom eyes. A small grin spread over his lips. “Oh, I’d know a thing or two.” 

They both slid down the bed, facing each other, and it took only a moment for Dean to lean above Cas and bring their lips together. The kiss was slow at first, soft and unhurried, but when a sign left Cas’ lips, Dean felt small shivers running down his back and pool in the pit of his stomach. 

In the nearly two years they had been together, that had never changed - the fact that Dean desired Cas, couldn’t get enough of him. Despite some very early inhibitions, it had not taken them long to go all the way. Dean still remembered it like it had been yesterday. Their bodies close, naked skin touching everywhere. Cas writhing underneath him, arms and legs wrapped around Dean as they both had come undone almost simultaneously. 

As he had told Cas then, Dean had been no complete stranger to male on male action. He had had a threesome with a woman and another man twice, though it had been more of the two guys focusing on the woman rather than each other, but still. Then, there had been that period that he would rather not think about when he had become a demon and gone on quite a few adventures with Crowley. That, though, didn’t really count, did it? He had not been his true self. 

Over the years, however, there had been occasions where, had Dean not been raised the way he had, and therefore repressed anything that made him, as stupid as that sounded, feel unmanly, he would have given in to his curiosities. There had been many guys who’d expressed interest in him, and some of them had made him wonder, made him think, only to feel ashamed of it the next second. 

He was glad of that fact now, no matter how unhealthy and stupid it had been. Because sharing all of this with Cas for the first time had been worth all the repression. And boy, had they shared it. While they had at first mostly limited their shenanigans to times when Sam had met with Eileen somewhere outside the bunker, once Sam had moved out a couple of months later, they had fucked in every room and on every surface in the bunker. And hadn’t that been glorious? He didn’t even understand how he could have ever thought of it as strange, awkward, or shameful. 

It had probably also helped that none of the people close to him had reacted negatively. Sam had been supportive from the start. Jody, Donna, the girls, Garth, and everyone else had been surprised at most, and delighted in the least. So what if there were people out there who thought of an all-male relationship as something dirty and wrong? They meant nothing to Dean, and he wouldn’t let such stupid concepts stand in the way of his happiness any longer. 

And man, was he happy. Two years, and he still felt like the luckiest guy on the planet. A guy who, now, could already feel the effects that kissing Cas had on his body. His jeans were a bit too tight all of the sudden, and his breath was coming faster over his lips between the kisses they shared - still somewhat slow but becoming deeper and deeper with each passing moment. They should probably wake Miracle and kick him out. 

It was his phone then that disturbed them, vibrating noisily on his nightstand. As excited as Dean was to see if it was Sam who was calling, he couldn’t help the slightly frustrated sigh leave him. “Does he have to call _now_??” 

Cas just chuckled and gently pushed Dean off him, who already reached for his phone. And yes, it was Sam. 

“Hey, everything okay on your end?” 

He only heard a breathless laugh through the line, and then, with a tone of voice that made him practically see Sam’s wide smile, “Yeah. I’m a _dad_. We have a son.” 

“That’s great, Sammy. I’m so happy for you,” Dean said, feeling warmth spread in his middle so strong that he couldn’t help but grin widely, too. He gave Cas the thumbs up to answer his inquiring gaze. 

“It’s a boy. Hang on. Sam, I’m putting you on speaker, okay?” 

Sam laughed again. “Yeah, of course.” 

“Hello Sam, congratulations,” Cas said, as Dean had pressed the button and put the phone onto the bed between them. Cas’ hand automatically found his. 

“Thanks, man. I’m so happy and proud, you have no idea.” 

Cas shrugged faintly, and there was just the faintest trace of melancholy visible on his features, and Dean knew he was thinking about Jack. Dean squeezed his hand a little and briefly brought it up to his lips to kiss his knuckles. 

“So, how’s Eileen? And what are you calling him?” Dean wanted to know. 

“She’s fine. Exhausted, but fine. She did really well. And…” A faint, somewhat bashful chuckle. “Now don’t be mad. We did think about naming him after you, Dean,” Sam said, and Dean felt a tiny pang of disappointment. “But we decided we’d name him Jack. We owe him so much, so--”

“Hey, that’s cool man, really,” Dean quickly interjected, and yes, he was really happy with the choice. “It’s perfect. Hm, my little nephew. Jack Winchester. I really like that.” 

He looked over at Cas again whose eyes were full of emotion. Of the three of them, Cas missed Jack the most and probably always would, and Dean felt a wave of sympathy wash over him. He put an arm around Cas’ shoulders and pulled him closer, kissing his temple. 

“I’m happy for you, too, Sam,” Cas said, and then they talked a bit longer. Sam told them about the baby’s size and weight, how strong Eileen had been during the birth, and how proud Sam was of her. How beautiful Jack’s little fingers looked, and that he had a dark crown of fuzzy hair on his tiny head. And Dean remembered Sam, even though he had hardly been more than a baby himself when his little brother had been born, and he remembered how much love he had felt for him then and still did. 

After a few minutes, Sam said goodbye again because he saw Eileen waking up through the ward window, and they were bringing their boy back in to be nursed for the first time. Dean and Cas promised they’d get in the car in a few hours and come up to visit them to meet the latest member of the Winchester family. 

And that, Dean thought, as he laid back down and wrapped his former angel-now-human boyfriend in his arms, was more perfect than he’d ever imagined his life to become. 

Dean Winchester had been through a lot, through death and grief and trauma, but it felt almost like a past life now. 

For once, life was _good_. Really damned good. And he was confident it was going to stay that way. 

~ fin ~


End file.
